Hope Gone
by TheGreenDragon13
Summary: Amphinomous tells the story of his death, telling the events that brought about his death from his own point of view


**Well, this really isn't a true fanfiction, just the story of Odysseus's return told through the view of Amphinomous. To tell you the truth, this started out as and English assignment: I just had to write a story with _The Odyssey. _So this is what I came up with. **

Hope Gone

My first thoughts of the stranger, the harbinger of my death, came and went without pause. In fact, I hardly noticed the moldy stranger in the corner, covered with rags, and bathed in the

unmistakable smell of a beggar. Why should I, noble Amphinomous, allow this visage to assault my senses? My only thought told me that it would be best to ignore him; only grief would result if the

swineherd Eumaeus was confronted about the beggar he allowed in the noble house of Ithaca, where kings have ruled like lions, violent against their enemies, and gentle with their pride. The suitor's

ignoble deaths and the bitter end to their quest might not have arrived so soon, if the arrogant fool Antinous had not confronted Eumaeus. He was the undoing of us all, acting as if he ruled over the

golden fields and sandy beaches of Ithaca. Hot-headed Antinous spewed forth the most grievous insults at Eumaeus, who has been a loyal servant to the queen, and turned his venom upon the

beggar. There are many mysteries in this world, making it dangerous to insult a stranger. That was not even the worst of our encounter with the beggar. I gave a crust to him, and like proper nobles,

the other suitors gave to the poor vagrant as well. Except the fool Antinous. In a mocking voice, he assaulted the beggar with harsh names and insults. When the poor beggar's rejoinder did not give

satisfaction to Antinous, he struck him with a chair. A stranger should never be harmed; they may even be a god in disguise. If this proved true, woe to Antinous. The beggar did not fall down upon

the cold, hard floor. Nor did so much a flinch cross his mud stained face. I recoiled in alarm. Only a warrior, or perhaps a god, could withstand the blinding pain the beggar felt. My worst fears would

have come to life, if he had been a god. Alas, for us, it ended almost as bad.

From then on I took notice of the beggar, who walked in his torn shoes, his ripped garments a sharp contrast to the royal hues the many suitors wore. He methodically journeyed from one of my

comrades to the next, talking to every suitor. I felt ashamed of what Antinous had done to this man, whom the gods had obviously stricken from previous power and glory. My color rose, ashamed

that I associated with such arrogant and hot-headed men, who stained the very land of Ithaca. I endured, for just the chance to win the wonderful Penelope's hand in marriage. And truly, I did have

a chance. I really was her favorite. I, proud and noble Amphinomous, would have taken fair Penelope's hand in marriage, if he had not returned.

That was not nearly the end of the trials that the poor beggar faced. Soon, a beggar well known to us, Arnaeus by name, but commonly known as Irus, walked into our palace. Upon seeing the

beggar, Irus reacted heatedly, and challenged the newcomer to a fight. I watched the beggar with sympathy; he stood vacantly, hunched over, arms hanging like twigs, ready to snap. A true noble

would have stopped this grossly lopsided fight from occurring, but I alone tried to stop them, as Antinous and the other nobles wanted evening sport. When a ring of nobles surrounded the two men,

like hyenas sensing a fresh kill, a strange transformation overtook the beggar. He grew stronger and taller, his spine reached skyward like a strong oak. Even I, strong Amphinomous, would have been

unable to defeat this common beggar in a fight of fists. A few quick moments and it was over, and with a loud thump, poor Irus lay upon the dusty ground, covered with blood and filth. When I beheld

this spectacle, realizing how the suitors had turned two innocent beggars against each other for the sake of entertainment, I wanted to withdraw from them, but I could not. If I did, I would never

have a chance to win over noble Penelope. I had to bide my time and accept the suitors, for if I turned against them, I knew I would never see fair Penelope again.

After the fight was over, I was overjoyed that the new beggar, the beggar-king, had not fallen prey to another of the suitor's acts of violence. I congratulated him, and sought to show him how a true

noble is supposed to behave, with generosity and kindness. I gave the beggar-king a drink of my sweet smelling wine, fit for kings, and shared my luxurious food. He took notice of my kindness, and

repaid me. He told me that the suitors had not a chance, if brave Odysseus rose from the stormy seas and returned to the noble land of Ithaca. He implied that this would come to pass very soon, and

that a prudent man should flee. I would have, but I was obsessed with the hope of winning Penelope, and soon after the beggar's warning she announced a contest, the winner taking her hand in

marriage. I could not leave now, so close to my goal, but nevertheless, I knew that this beggar still had a part to play in Ithaca.

I thought no more of the beggar, only about stringing Odysseus's polished bow, and shooting through the line of axes, glittering in the sunlight, to win Penelope's hand in marriage. I was wary

though; a smart man should always take heed, given advice, no matter the source, beggar or king. I am not a warrior, but this was a contest of archery, a challenge of precision and strength.

Odysseus's son, Telemachus, tried to string the bow. He came very close, and with a little more effort he could have strung, but he stopped just short. I failed along with all of the suitors. After we all

made our attempts, a ruckus arose. The beggar aspired to join our noble quest and string the bow. I opposed this greatly, for I knew the hidden strength of this beggar, and his prophecy rang in my

ears. When the beggar received the bow, dead silence pervaded the courtyard. Unnamed fear gripped the suitors, but my thoughts consisted of greater fears. The beggar strung the bow in a fluid

motion, and shot it through the axes. He knocked another arrow, and Antinous was dead. My greatest fears had come true. Slaughter surrounded me, the floor was slick with blood, the stench of

death hung in the air, and piercing screams of dying men reached my soul. The swineherd and Telemachus fought against us as well. Even though I am not a warrior, I bravely led a charge against

these attackers, hoping to live, and perhaps wed Penelope. He knocked an arrow and aimed at me, but Telemachus stabbed me from behind. At that moment I saw before me not a beggar, but a

noble dressed in vagrants clothes, stronger than any man I had ever seen. I would never wed Penelope. Odysseus had returned.********************

**Thanks for reading, Please review and tell me what you thought!**


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